


Class Warfare

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Jock Strap [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Jock Stiles, M/M, Nerd Scott, Road Head, Sciles, Sex, Teen Wolf AU, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles didn't grow up as friends and never met until high school. Asthmatic awkward Scott has fallen for popular jock Stiles, but Stiles's best friend Jackson isn't having any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Class Warfare

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by Loz's amazing AU [here](http://lozenger8.tumblr.com/post/88246964021/initially-written-for-mating-games-but-i-messed) and [here](http://lozenger8.tumblr.com/post/88264026251/tofixtheshadows-replied-to-your-post-initially). We just couldn't resist playing in her world! What would it be like if Stiles didn't grow up with the boy who taught him how to be kind and Scott didn't have anyone who believed in him so hard he learned to believe in himself?

Scott was entirely convinced he’d died sometime during the night. Whatever he’d been expecting from his first time was woefully inadequate compared to reality, there was just  _so much_  to learn and he was such a willing student. He came to it like he’d been starved for physical affection, almost shocked at how it felt to be touched. They never taught you things like this in health class and he had definitely been watching the wrong videos. He’d laughed the whole time, breathless and excited and just so happy to be in the moment. He practiced his lessons on Stiles’s body, asking questions about what the boy wanted, what he liked and how to make him feel good. Scott had no shame in his inexperience, wanting to try everything and not shying away from any suggestion.

By the end, his muscles trembled in exhaustion with every nerve ending raw and oversensitive. He could barely drag himself up the stairs, dazed and fucked out, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He’d never shared a bed with anyone before, why had no one told him what it was like to curl into someone else’s warmth?

He woke, already late and aching in places he didn’t know could ache. By the time he finally made it to school, it took all of 7.5 seconds for Erica and Kira to pounce on him and start asking about the obvious bruises that darkened his skin. Scott tried to fend them off, but they were persistent and more than ready to fill in the blanks themselves based on how deeply the boy blushed under their questions. Even that couldn’t keep him from grinning all day. Maybe it was the new brush of confidence in the way he held himself or the fact he was so clearly happy, but it attracted the worst sorts of attention and Scott yelped as he was shoved hard into the lockers.

“Out of the way, McCall. You’re taking up space again.”

___

"Breath," Stiles had grumbled lazily, with half-lidded eyes and a shameless yawn as he pulled Scott closer. Long fingers had wrapped around Scott’s dick, and really, it was no one’s fault that they missed first period entirely. Stiles had snickered through morning kisses, closed-mouthed and clumsy. He’d left before Scott got out of the shower with promises of Thursday and ‘more’ and ‘your butt.’

Stiles slept all through trigonometry, and didn’t comb his hair, and spent the rest of the day looking out for a bright smile with crazy deep dimples while trying to look serenely nonchalant about the whole thing. Jackson asked him if he was sick and told him not to puke on his shoes.

He should have looked harder. Jackson found Scott first.

Jackson was a grade A asshole on the best of days. Where anxiety left Stiles jittering, reaching for pills he kept as well concealed as he could possibly manage, it made Jackson go still. It made his hands heavier, and his smiles sharper. Jackson may have been a jerk on a leash, but Stiles wouldn’t go head to head with him in a fair fight. Stiles liked fights he knew he could win. Other people’s happiness, apparently, were thorns in Jackson’s sides. When Jackson shoved, Scott flew.

Stiles hadn’t expected to be so angry. For a moment, it left him speechless.

"I’ve seen Greenberg tackle better," Stiles drawled disinterestedly, drawing Jackson’s attention with practiced ease. His pace quickened, but only a beat, and if he could lead Jackson away, maybe that’d be the end of it.

___

Scott should have just let it go, but something inside of him broke. Things were finally going his way for once, couldn’t he have one freaking day without being pushed around and humiliated to remind him that he was supposed to be nothing? He rubbed his shoulder with a hiss of pain and set his jaw.

“What the hell is your problem, Jackson?”

“My problem?” The Captain turned with a cold smirk. “You’re my problem, McCall. I don’t like your attitude. I don’t like your wheezing ass on my field getting in the way of the rest of the team. I don’t like the way you make eyes of my friends like some kind of creepy stalker with a sad little crush. Why don’t you go back to your loser friends and whine like a bitch?” Jackson laughed, expecting his entourage to laugh with him.

Scott balled his hands into fists, shaking with how much he wanted to punch that smug grin from Jackson’s face. His eyes flicked quickly to Stiles before narrowing back on the bully. With a deep breath, he let his hands uncurl. “You’re an asshole, but I’m not going to fight you. You’re not even worth it.”

“You’re not going to fight  _me_?” Jackson laughed again, poking his fingers into Scott’s chest and pushing him back into the lockers. “Of course you’re not going to fight me, it’s not called a fight when it’s so one sided. That’s just a massacre, McCall.”

“I’m not afraid of you. You’re a coward, Jackson, and you’re not going to scare me, so back off. I think I hear Lydia calling you.”

___

Scott was going to die, and Stiles hadn’t even fucked him yet.

A sharp pang of panic surged through him, because Jackson was a piece of work. He arrogance was all the worse because he had something to back it up. He was good at hurting people, and the only difference was that on the field, he was applauded for it. Off the field, no one really thought to stop him. But anger curled around panic, and the clang of metal lockers rang clear through his mind.

"That does sound like Lydia," Stiles piped up, grin too sharp, and stance deceptively loose. For the first time, snickers that weren’t at Scott’s expense rippled through the group.

Scott hadn’t struck a nerve. He’d punched it in half, and for all that Jackson’s smile made him look charming, Stiles knew what his best friend looked like when he was stung. He didn’t think twice about looping an arm across Jackson’s shoulders, guiding him away with a practiced calm. He just needed to redirect focus long enough for Jackson to lose interest, and Stiles thought he did. Jackson walked with him, his expression clouding.

Except he turned on his heel and slammed a fist into Scott’s belly. Jackson wasn’t playing.

"Later, loser."

___

Scott grunted, all the air knocked from his lungs as he curled around himself, sliding down the lockers to the floor. He ground his teeth together to keep himself from being sick. It was a low blow, not like he expected anything less from a snake like Jackson. The boy sucked air through his teeth, ignoring the tight wheeze from his lungs as fury drove him back to his feet, leaning against the cool metal behind him for support.

The boy held his ground, staring down his adversary and snarling. It didn’t matter if he got hurt or if he lost, it wasn’t about the fight. Someone had to stand up to Jackson and if he could do it, maybe other people would start fighting back too. He was done being invisible and spending all day trying to keep from being noticed so he didn’t get hurt.

Cowards always hid behind their fists and Jackson wasn’t any different. A cheap hit and a retreat, targeting people he thought couldn’t stand up to him. He was so wrong. “D-does it make you feel better, you asshole? You think I can’t tell you’re scared? I can see right through you, Jackson and  _I feel sorry for you_.” And all of your ‘friends.’

___

Jackson’s smile was sharper than most knives, and he had a hand a round Scott’s throat before most of his group realized what was going on. Stiles still wished he’d moved faster. “Scared of you, McCall?” Jackson hissed, slamming Scott against the lockers like he wanted to shove him through them. “You can’t even look me in the eye-“ 

"Hey, hey! What the Hell are you doing, dude?" Stiles hissed, grip tight around Jackson’s wrist. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Scott. He could have sworn his pulse was loud enough for the corridor to hear, but he didn’t let up. "Are you trying to get us all in shit? Let it go."

Jackson didn’t like to be told what to do. He liked it even less when orders made  _sense,_ but they were drawing more attention than he could stand to ignore. 

"You’re not worth  _my_  time, loser,” he sneered, dropping Scott as easily as he’d pushed into his space. When he walked away, he expected everyone else to follow.

___

Scott let his head drop back against the lockers, breathing hard enough to have him groping blindly for his backpack just in case. He would not use his inhaler while Jackson was watching, he wouldn’t give the bully any sign of weakness even though his lungs tightened uncomfortably. He’d held his ground and felt a small measure of pride that he hadn’t backed away, but it didn’t mean being totally outclasses in a fight wasn’t completely humiliating. If Jackson had really decided to go through with it, Scott would have no doubt ended up on the losing end. It was only a matter of time before it happened.

“You don’t have to hang out with someone who’s such a jerk all the time, you know.” The boy said quietly, rubbing his throat and straightening his shirt.

It would never make sense that someone like Stiles would have been friends with such an awful person as Jackson. Stiles wasn’t  _nice_ , Scott had noticed the quirks in how he treated people, but he wasn’t cruel just for cruelty’s sake. He didn’t seem to get off on making other people miserable and his razor edged tongue tended to draw blood when people actually deserved it. “You’re better than he is.”

___

"Get to the nurse," Stiles said. It was lower than he’d intended. He couldn’t look away from Scott’s throat. Fighting the urge to tear apart his stupid backpack for an inhaler, Scott was red in the face and seemed about a second away from collapsing. They’d already drawn a crowd, people who hovered at the edges of a scene, desperate for a glimpse of the latest development in Jackson Whittemore’s life. 

Stiles still stopped, just long enough to push Scott’s backpack into his hand, before he turned on his heel. He’d never felt more like a coward, and apparently, all it took was fucking some nobody. Jackson didn’t seem to notice, but the day had lost the bright edge that had made it so much fun. Jackson claimed Scott was better off dead. Stiles had to leave lunch early, or he’d end up braining his best friend with a metal tray.

Final bell took too long to sound, and Stiles was waiting at the bike racks for Scott before it could finish ringing. 

___

Scott was humiliated, but what else was new? He grasped at his inhaler, doubling over as Stiles walked away and waiting until the medication eased his constricted lungs. He coughed hollowly, wishing he could sink down into the floor. It still wasn’t a mistake and he didn’t regret it. Someone had to keep standing up to Jackson until everybody did.

He refused to go to the nurse’s office if only to save what was left of his pride. The girls yelled at him afterwards for being so stupid and hot-headed when the smart thing to do was just walk away. Boyd didn’t say a word, sitting with him quietly as he ranted and putting a comforting hand on Scott’s shoulder.

As soon as the bell rang, Scott slung his backpack over his shoulder and made a dash for it, but he wasn’t fast enough. With a sigh, he slowed, hands twisting into the straps of his bag and jaw set. “You shouldn’t be here.” He said more calmly than he felt. “Someone could see you talking to me.”

___

Stiles deserved that.

"Yeah, we’ll give’em something to look at." He snapped, just a little too sharp, but his fingers were gentle when he gripped the front of Scott’s shirt, tugging him close for a kiss neither of them was ready for. It was quick, over almost as soon as it began, with Stiles nearly bumping Scott’s nose off course and getting too much of his upper lip. They’d work on it. Stiles didn’t want to think about why he might be the reason nothing happened.

He still moved away before anyone could get more than a glimpse of them, his words reduced to nothing but shameful bravado. He didn’t let go of Scott. He told himself that counted. “Come on. Put your bike in the Jeep.”

His tone had softened, not entirely with his consent, and Stiles couldn’t not look at Scott’s neck, trying to find more physical traces of the event that had set their days off course. He wanted to kiss Scott again. He wanted to do a lot more than that.

"Jackson’s a dick," he commented in earnest, and Scott’s words rang through his mind. He derailed that train of thought before it could go anywhere. "Come on… Lunch’s on me."

___

Scott could feel the heat rise beneath his skin and tried to hide the smile that curved his lips. It was so easy to forgive, especially when Stiles looked so uncomfortable. He stroked his hand down the other boy’s shirt before stepping out of his reach to unlock the chain around his bike. “Jackson is a dick.” He agreed. “And so are you when you’re with him. I don’t get it, dude.”

Stiles could be a jerk, but he wasn’t someone who got off on hurting others who couldn’t defend themselves. Was there possibly something more to Jackson Whittemore than the pretty exterior and cruel smirk? Stiles wasn’t an idiot and he didn’t seem to have any shortage of ego, what was it that kept them friends? Scott sighed, even when he was angry (and right!), he hated being mean. “Sorry, I know you like him and it’s not fair to say anything about him. I won’t put you in the middle like that. Just forget it.”

He studied the other boy quietly, hands twisting around the handles of his bike and expression unreadable. This really was a bad idea. He’d never ask someone to give up a friend, but if Jackson ever found out that they were…doing whatever it was they were doing, Scott knew he’d be the one to pay for it.  _Worth it._  “Okay, fine. But only because you offered to pay. I think you’ve found my kryptonite.”

___

Stiles wasn’t going to defend a guy who’d tried to make Scott one with a locker. He hadn’t been lying about disliking Jackson on their best days, except he was still his best friend. Stiles hadn’t known anyone for longer, and Jackson was loyal to those he kept in his inner circle. Lydia Martin was an odd sort of constant, always flitting in and out of it with a toss of her hair. Stiles, though, Jackson looked out for him, in peculiar, Jackson-y ways. He suggested lacrosse scholarships after he’d secured his own. He made sure Stiles was never lacking in attention from anyone who wasn’t Lydia. His wit was acerbic, and when they got into fights there was nothing quite like it. They had history neither of them was comfortable with talking about.

It just took a lot of effort to be with him sometimes.

He elbowed Scott in the side, like he could jostle that expression off his face. “Mine’s curly fries. And it’s got nothing to do with being a cheap ass.”

He unfastened Scott’s bike and started rolling it towards his Jeep. Maybe there was a chance none of this was damning before, but if someone looked over now, Stiles didn’t think he could step back from this. He was kind of okay with that, if he didn’t think about it too much.

But it was two blocks away from school, as they idled at a stop light, that he grabbed Scott by the front of his shirt and kissed him like he wanted to devour him.

___

“Curly fries? Good to know, I’ll have to remember that.” Any advantage was a good one when Stiles turned that mischievous smile on him and Scott found himself suddenly willing to agree to any bad idea the boy suggested. It was so easy to forgive, it had always been that way and it didn’t help that Stiles was so freaking cute  _and_  offering free food. He followed, doing his best to hide his smile and glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. He kept telling himself this was a bad idea, why was he still going along with it?

It’s not like they were dating, Scott didn’t have any illusions about what this was. If Jackson ever found out about it, Scott would never get any peace and who knew what Stiles would do? It was dangerous playing games like this, someone would see and it would end horribly. If he was a target now, this was practically begging for Jackson to ruin his life. Why couldn’t he stop? He was smarter than this, always the cautious one who never took risks, this wasn’t him. It still didn’t even make him hesitate as he climbed into Stiles’s jeep.

Scott tried to yelp as he was yanked into the kiss, finding his mouth otherwise occupied. He opened for Stiles, eager and impatient, curling his fingers around the back of the other boy’s neck. Oh yeah… _this_ was why. Such a terrible idea…climbing out of his seat and trying to straddle Stiles in the middle of the road was probably a worse one. “Green light, dude. What’s wrong, distracted?”

___

Scott made a  _sound_ , and Stiles knew he wouldn’t be letting Jackson anywhere near the boy ever again. He lurched back, startled because driving (what drive where? Who Jackson?), hand automatically going to Scott’s thigh, keeping him in place in the passenger’s seat. “Hey.”

Stiles was protesting, and he couldn’t remember what. His jeep lurched to life, sputtering under a jolt of gas. Stiles only kept one hand on the wheel. “I’ll show you distracted.”

He could work on his comebacks. He could work on them when his hand wasn’t working the front of Scott’s jeans. He glanced over at the other boy, meeting his eyes as he undid the button of his pants. If Scott wanted to stop him, he better hurry up. Stiles licked his lips like he wanted to eat the car they drove behind.

This was crazy. He was sure of it. This was the very definition of a bad idea. All he needed was his Dad to pull them over with Scott looking wanton and wrecked in the front seat. Stiles inhaled sharply and thought about how quickly he could get Scott that way. All he’d planned for was taking Scott for a few burgers and showing him where Stiles practiced lacrosse in the woods, right off his jogging trail where he didn’t bother anyone. There were already too many broken windows on his record. The sound of Scott’s zipper moving just seemed so  _loud_.

___

He had a great snarky line on the tip of his tongue, something witty and brilliant that would absolutely impress. So very impressive. Scott’s eyes went huge and his jaw dropped as he hesitated before leaning back against the seat. He sucked in a ragged shuttering breath through his mouth, tipping his head back against the seat rest and staring at the ceiling.  _Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea!_

Scott hands curled and twitched, digging into his thighs like he wasn’t sure if he should be helping or stopping this. Oh my god, they were going to crash and die and they’d find his horribly mangled body with his pants down. He wrapped his hands around Stiles’s before wriggling his hips and helped to pull himself free from his jeans.

It was just so easy to fall into trouble with Stiles, it wasn’t fair. Scott didn’t realize how close to the edge he’d always hovered or how much he wanted to be so reckless. Always afraid, always quiet and ignored, but Stiles actually saw him and Scott was willing to do just about anything to finally be noticed. That wasn’t so bad, was it? To enjoy someone wanting him even if it was secret and dirty and no one could ever know? They weren’t dating, Scott didn’t let himself think about things like that…even though it would be such a nice thought. “J-just don’t kill us, okay. Eyes on the road, Stiles.”

___

Stiles bit back a whine because Scott was going to tell him stop and it was sad. Clothes slipped off, and cock came out, and Stiles had never given his emotions such whiplash before. Stiles traced the length of Scott’s shaft, finding a grip that would be easiest to move. His fingers ghosted over the tip of his cock, memorizing its shape. The broad curve of his thumb pressed across the slit, smearing precum all over sensitive skin. He stroked down the length, recalling the weight of Scott against his palm. Not for the first time, Stiles thought about how he’d feel in his mouth. He teased his swollen balls, thought how good they’d taste, too.

Not kill them.  _Not_  kill them. Right. Stiles could do that. Stiles tipped his head back and moaned.

He pulled back, just long enough to lick a wet stripe across his palm and fingers, giving negative fucks for what the car beside them would see. He cupped Scott, squeezing once, and God, he loved this. He loved this so much. He stroked Scott hard and fast and demanded he’d scream.

The jeep only swerved a little.

___

“Oh god, fuck, Stiles!” It was just not fair how fast his body responded to this. Granted, just someone giving him a look was sometimes enough to get hard, hormones kicking in at the most embarrassing moments like his body was purposely betraying him, but Stiles had him aching. Scott choked on his moan as he was squeezed, jerking forward and hands scrabbling to hold on to something. He couldn’t keep still, making quick desperate thrusts into Stiles’s hand and fighting with the seatbelt that suddenly felt so constricting. The teenage enthusiasm was only countered by teenage lack of experience and Scott threw his head back with a wounded wail as he came. Stamina, yeah. Work on stamina.

He kept his eyes locked on the roof of the car, laughing breathlessly and feeling way too good to be ashamed. Scott lifted the other boy’s hand, licking the cum from his fingers and sucking along the skin. It really wasn’t bad when you got used to it, warm and slightly bitter, though it might be better if it was Stiles’s. That was an idea.

“I’m not…giving you road head…unless you pull over.” He panted, smile almost shy. Safety first.

___

 _Don’t scream don’t scream don’t scream you’ll kill us all don’t,_  but Stiles would be jacking off to that sound for a long, long time. The broken hitch of breath, the first breathless ‘oh,’ the way Scott’s tongue rolled over his name. Stiles looked over just in time to see that same tongue dart between his fingers, and it felt like his jeans were killing him. He was going to die.

Scott spoke and Stiles drove them into a ditch. Not really, more like, mostly unto someone’s lawn, and he seriously hoped no one noticed, but then he grabbed Scott by the jaw, yanked him close, and forget everything except how good his cum tasted on Scott’s tongue.

Slender fingers tangled in Scott’s hair, carding through dark locks as Stiles tried to pull him in. He never wanted to let him go.  Distantly, he remembered clicking off his seat belt, and bemoaning how his Jeep was so old, its passenger seat didn’t recline. It didn’t matter when he could kiss Scott like he needed him to breathe. 

"-fffuck Scott impossible you’re gonna kill me neverdidthatbefore," he rasped, but they were kissing again and again and again. Stiles had better hurry up and get Scott’s mouth on him, or this would end embarrassingly.

___

Scott fought the seat belt, trying to get it off,  _come on_ , anything to get closer. He didn’t bother to zip his pants to care that there were cars passing by or that they could be caught. He needed to be closer, awkwardly clambering over the center console to kiss Stiles until he had to pull back with a gasp for air and laughing. Always laughing somehow, this was ridiculous and cramped and he loved every minute of it. He was pretty sure he elbowed Stiles somewhere along the way, mumbling apologies as he wiped his hands on his own jeans and groped for the boy’s zipper.

He didn’t have any grace and very little actual skill, but Scott had an infectious enthusiasm and an eagerness to learn. There was something nice about being able to please people. It was an empowering thing to make someone else feel good and the way Stiles looked at him didn’t hurt at all either. It was a fight that required more coordination than his hands had at the moment, but Scott finally managed to work Stiles free from his pants.

The jeep didn’t allow much room and Scott ended up sprawled across the front seats, ass high in the air as he traced his tongue along the veins of Stiles’s cock. He couldn’t take it all, gagging a bit as he tried (another thing to add to the list of things he needed to practice), and settled for pumping his hand around the base as Scott swallowed around him.

___

Scott smacked him in the chest, but as soon as he bent over, Stiles knew that he would forgive him of any transgression ever. Someone knocked against the jeep’s horn. The door handle was digging painfully into his thigh, but Stiles just spread his legs wider, and he still tried to fit his long limbs anywhere they would go when they were trapped in his jeans.

Scott choked on his cock, and Stiles wanted to scream. He groaned hungrily, bucking wildly before his hand settled on Scott’s head, pushing down as he thrust up. He tried to fuck down Scott’s throat, jerking and writhing in a seat. Cars sped by, cars who could see everything, and that was a problem. That was a serious problem. Stiles wanted to be the only one who saw what Scott looked like when he came.

"Fuck-" he rasped, panting for air, and Stiles had gotten better blow jobs, probably. He was sure of it. He had to. Scott had probably never done this before, never been touched before last night, never been kissed. That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but Stiles couldn’t tell that to his leaking dick when Scott’s mouth was so wet around it.

He came down Scott’s throat, forcing him in place and trying to make him swallow every last drop.

___

He tried so hard to keep his teeth clear as he was forced down, struggling to find a way to breath as he choked. Scott drooled down his cock, hands digging into Stiles’s jeans and not finding air enough to even moan. It was good and it  _hurt_  but he wanted so much more and he tried to relax as Stiles hit the back of his throat, gagging again.

Scott didn’t have a choice but to swallow over and over before he was finally released, coughing hard and dizzy. He gasped desperately, still bent low as he licked strings of cum from his lips and rested his head in Stiles’s lap. “Oh…” Everything he tried to say wrapped up in that small sound, completely overwhelmed.  His throat felt raw and his lungs burned as he nuzzled into the boy’s thigh.

What was that he said about this being a bad idea? This was the best idea. This should be like, the greatest of all ideas. Scott groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands and awkwardly climbing back in his seat. He let his head hit the back of the seat, eyes closed and spent. This could be such a dangerous addiction. There was nothing that could stop the smile, satisfied and slightly embarrassed and a little bit proud as Scott squirmed to readjust himself in his pants. “Wow.”

___

Scott’s mouth was on his cock, and his hands were in Scott’s hair, and it was bright and perfect and so fucking awesome. Then Scott moved, and changed everything. Stiles wanted to chain him to his bed so he couldn’t move again. He moaned, soft and sated, and it didn’t matter how tired he was because his grin was impish.

Scott McCall. Scott fucking McCall, and Stiles had taken so long to notice his mouth, and he was such an idiot, really.

"Woah," he repeated, but he’d already moved forward, slumping against the space between their seats, just close enough that he could drop a kiss to Scott’s cheek. He kissed him again, against the side of his mouth, sweetly, and tasted his own cum. Stiles wanted him wrapped in blankets and nothing else. 

He tried to hug Scott. It was a clumsy, uncoordinated affair, and if he could just pull himself a little closer, maybe he could drape himself over Scott like he really, really wanted to. “I wanna take you home,” he mumbled against the shell of Scott’s ear, nipping at it gently. “… Also wanna buy you dinner. Take you to that - lacrosse place, in the woods. Also want you naked. Hm… Naked.”

___

Scott leaned into the other boy, ignoring the way the center console banged into his kidney and laughed. “Okay.” Okay to everything, he wanted everything. Was that selfish? Did he even care? No one had ever looked at him like he was worth anything before and he’d promise anything as long as he never let that look fade. It was an odd feeling to be wanted when all he knew was being passed over and invisible. He usually wasn’t even worth ridicule, too far below the radar to register at all. Somehow, one of the most popular guys in school actually saw him when no one else had and it was honestly terrifying. He loved it.

“Let’s not do all of it at once though, okay?” Scott groped for the seatbelt, clicking it back into place. “I’m not sure playing lacrosse in the woods naked is going to be such a safe idea. I’d like to keep my junk where it is, dude.” He ran a hand through his spiked messy hair, trying to smooth the whole thing down and not look quite like he’d just blew some guy in a jeep. That was a thing, right? If it wasn’t, it should be, though keeping others from noticing might be a good idea. Geez, before yesterday no one had given him the time of day, and now he was having sex in broad daylight out in public. Stiles was a terrible influence.

___

"Hm. Yes. Protect the junk at all costs," Stiles agreed, reaching over to ruffle Scott’s already hopeless hair, with the sole purpose of making it look like they’d been doing exactly what they’d been doing. He patted Scott through his jeans. Stiles didn’t think he’d been so fond of junk that wasn’t his junk in so long.

He kissed Scott slowly, something else to remember him by as they traveled the long distance to a drive through burger joint. Stiles wouldn’t stop licking his lips the entire time. If he felt any more relaxed, he was pretty sure he’d melt through his seat. Maybe Scott could lick him up. That wasn’t supposed to feel so sexy.

He jolted when the intercom buzzed to life, shooting off their order quickly, while his head felt like it spun on his shoulders. ”Two double-cheese burgers, two large curly fries, a vanilla shake and a strawberry one, and ah - those apple cinnamon tart things. Three of ‘em, for me and my date.”

___

Scott swatted half-heartedly at the hands, so distracted by the things Stiles could do with his mouth. He really needed to learn how to do that. He should be taking notes. They never really taught you the things you needed to know, just to ‘wrap it up’ and looking at disturbingly cartoonish diagrams of some guy’s package. They never explained what it was like when someone was three fingers deep in your ass and doing something that send electricity racing down each and every nerve. Or how to breathe when someone held you down on their dick. Or what kind of lube wouldn’t ruin the sheets when your mom still did the laundry. The most important things!

If this was all it was, then he was okay with it; an eager student and Stiles had so much to teach with that imagination and wicked smile. It didn’t hurt that he was painfully hot either or knew Scott’s utter weakness to the meaty-cheesey-fried foods to keep his energy up.  It was the word that made him suddenly freeze, mouth open and only his force of will that snapped it shut.  _Date?_  Like…an actual out in public real person not hiding anything date? Like…Stiles actually  _liked_  him and there might be something about boyfriends in there somewhere actual date, date? He could feel the hot flush reach the curve of his ears and stared down at the hands in his lap, nose wrinkling as he failed to keep the smile from shining through. “If it’s a date, you’re paying.”

___

"Oh."

People claimed Stiles didn’t have a filter. They’d rather think that then believe that every insulting, painful comment he let out was meant to hurt, to mock at someone else’s expense. With Jackson around, he looked like a saint. They’d rather think him well-meaning and inappropriate than a straight up asshole. Stiles could be both.

That though, that was completely unintentional. Stiles found he didn’t mind as much as he maybe should have. Scott was amazing. This was going to be a problem.

He leaned over, coaxing Scott to raise his head with a quick kiss on the cheek, moving so he could curl a round his date -  _date_  - and kiss him hard on the mouth, making it linger, making it last.

"Please proceed to the first window," the intercom proclaimed behind them. Stiles wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulders and tried to make him moan. The next two time the intercom buzzed, the speaker added, "Please proceed to the first window  _now._ ”

Stiles wasn’t done kissing. They could finish up in his bedroom. “Whatever, dude. You’re paying for the next one.”

___

Stiles had this magic ability to steal away every coherent thought with his mouth, even when those thoughts were about milkshakes and cheeseburgers. That was the clearest indication Scott had that he was already so far gone. Nothing was more important than snack time,  _nothing_ , except one Stiles Stilinski and the way Scott was falling out of his seat to hiss him back. He’d have starved to death without even noticing if it meant kissing him without interruption. Thankfully one of them was still thinking.

Scott would still be careful about whatever this was, but his wariness had faded. It still wouldn’t probably be smart to be so public about it, especially at school, and it didn’t feel right to risk being serious or letting Stiles see too much behind the smile, but maybe someday. They were dating now, it was official even if no one else ever knew.

“Fine, it’s a deal.” He said with a smirk, squeezing his hand into Stiles’s thigh. “Next one’s on me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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